


I'm Begging You Not To Go

by ghettoassenglishman



Series: Take my hand--Take My Whole life too [55]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Porn with Feelings, Riding, Smut, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 22:54:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4076866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There was one thing Ian loved more than Mickey's ass – and that was the older man begging for his dick. "</p><p>Anon Prompt : Hey can you please write something where Mickey always coming before anything happens like with just Ian's fingers (he can't help it) so Ian decides to tease him and won't let him come until he's begging. Basically orgasm delay. Thanks. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Begging You Not To Go

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Hey hey. I'm not a genius at smut, but here we are:) I kind of love writing it though? And I loved this prompt. So I really, really, really, hope you like this! SAY YES TO HANDCUFFS LIKE DAAAAMn

After weeks and weeks of Mickey coming without Ian's dick in his ass, either untouched or the crook of Ian's fingers. The ex-con would merely last a couple of minutes before Ian's fingers made him see his release, and Ian _loved_ it sure, but he didn't mind teasing things up a little. Ian was persistent, and highly determined that he would get Mickey squirming and in a sense of bliss, almost entirely through the art of begging. There was one thing Ian loved more than Mickey's ass – and that was the older man begging for his dick.

 

***

Mickey shoves Ian into the bedroom, slamming the door shoot with his foot. Ian fell flat against the bed, grinning up at him, chest filled with sweat from the summer-heat that left a glow against his skin. The redhead watches in awe, and immediate lust, as Mickey slowly peels off his tank. Instead, he smirks, ready to get Mickey more than frustrated. “So, I called Mandy today.”

The brunette's eyebrows shoot up, standing between Ian's legs with a scowl. “Are you seriously talking about my sister when I want your dick in my ass?”

Ian giggles, biting his lip as Mickey's face flushed in frustration and yearning to pounce onto him. He drums his fingers against his chest, “I just wanted to approach-” Mickey pulls off his pants quickly, jumping onto Ian in a flash causing the other man to chuckle loudly. Ian coughs, dimming his laugh. “I wanted to approach the subject.”

“Well, don't.” Mickey answers back sharply, straddling Ian's hips.

Ian already knows he has him wrapped around his little finger, he grins, hands flowing up to the curve of Mickey's bare hips.”Hm, maybe I want to.” He curls his hand around the back of Mickey's neck, pulling him down into a rough kiss. Mickey groans, hands braced against Ian's chest, fingers slipping underneath the waistband of Ian's sweats.

Why was he still wearing pants?

Before he could do something about it, Ian happily flips them over, hooking his leg around Mickey's waist and proceeded to hover over him with a devious smirk playing against his lips. Before Mickey could protest, he dips his head down smashing their lips together in a furious fusion that shot sparks up his spine. In a grunt, Mickey responds with equal enthusiasm, kissing him back roughly and messily, biting at his bottom lip. His hands roam up Ian's bare arms, squeezing tentatively against the bulky muscles. He pushes his dick against Ian's thigh, breathing heavily in frustration at the layer of fabric repenting their contact.

Ian places a hand at Mickey's chin, holding his head up as he started to place soft and tender kisses against Mickey's lips, laughing to himself when he heard Mickey grunt in annoyance. He pulls down his sweats, kicking them off the heel of his foot and shuffles back in-between Mickey's legs, hooking the man's legs higher against his sides.

Ian sits back against his legs, Mickey follows in confusion. “Where the fuck are you going?”

Mickey's lips are red and wet with saliva, pupils massively dilated with hunger. His chest was heaving, glimmered with sweat, hair all tussled and stuck together through the motion of Ian's hands threading through it. Ian loves it, Mickey looks hungry, as if he's ready to flip because Ian wasn't moving fast enough. After all, that was Ian's plan. He wanted Mickey begging for him.

“I want to look at you.” Ian says huskily, pushing Mickey back down against the mattress. Mickey squirms a little, shuffling his back against the sheets, legs trying to push Ian back down. He's hopeless, and needy, and Ian really did love it.

As Ian's hands travel up his chest, playing around his nipples, Mickey lets out a shuddering breath. Mickey slaps Ian's chest, weakly dropping his hand. “Don't look just fuck.”

Ian scoffs, leaning forward. “Nice motto you got there, Mick. It has a ring to it.” He hovers directly above Mickey, lips ghosting over his. He takes a moment to relish, and admire the beauty of his boyfriend; his slender hips, his eager twitching cock, the way he continued to shift restlessly against the bed – always impatient.

“You like it? Good.” Mickey licks his lips, tugging on Ian's arm. “Now fucking do it.”

Ian winks, trailing his lips over the curve of Mickey's jaw, causing the man to bucker his hips upwards in a lustful cry. Ian chuckles, mumbling against the rough skin of Mickey's stubble. “Just have a little _patience.”_ And he hears Mickey whimper, fingers clawing against his skin, it only makes his movements slower.

“ _Gallagher,”_ Mickey grits through his teeth. “Get the fuck on with before I have to kick your ass into shape.” He kicks his heel into Ian's ass, pleading for his chest to press closer to his, but Ian places his hand beside Mickey's head as leverage, continuing to press gentle kisses against the column of his neck.

Ian drags his finger over Mickey's stomach and down to the line of his hip. “I will. Eventually.”

Mickey's hand grips to the back of Ian's neck, cursing out in annoyance, frustration building in the pit of his stomach. “Eventually? We ain't got all the time in the world, man.”

“Just you wait.” Ian promises, moving from Mickey's face, trailing down a path of kisses from his neck and down his chest, pressing his nose into dip of rib-cage and breathes in deep before rubbing his soft lips over his warm, heaving skin.

It's evident that Mickey's growing impatient, he pulls Ian up roughly by his shoulders, channeling them face to face with a raised brow. “I'm tired of fucking waiting-”

Ian cuts him off with his lips, hand gripped at Mickey's thigh in order to shift him higher against his body. The kiss started less desperate, surprisingly, more of a slow exploration as Ian leans further down to Mickey's chest, pressing them together. Mickey's fingers trace over the broad muscles of his shoulders, his toned back, and down to the curve of his ass. He squeezes, laughing into Ian's mouth a little.

Ian makes a small noise in his throat, then he suddenly breaks away from the kiss, pressing his face into Mickey's cheek with a giggle. “Wait a second-” He steps up abruptly from the bed, leaving Mickey naked, sweaty, horny and damn-straight frustrated lying against the crumpled sheets.

Mickey hits his fists against the mattress, yelling, “Jesus Christ. What the fuck are you doing now?”

The redhead runs back in, twirling a pair of handcuffs around his index finger. “Just a little something.”

“Fuck that. _No.”_ Mickey leans up against his elbows, shaking his head rapidly from side to side. “I ain't wearing those cuffs that you took from the whores upstairs. You can fuck the fuck off.” He flops back down against the bed, turning his head away from Ian in a huff.

Ian snorts, crawling up the bed and back between Mickey's spread legs. With a hum, he clutches to the metal and unclasps his head hand repeatedly, eyes dark, “I have you know, I bought these ones just for us.”

Mickey's head darts back around, “So, you spent our money on some useless pieces of metal, for what fucking reason?” He folds his arms over, tucking his hands under his armpits.

Ian scoffs, resting his chin against Mickey's stomach. “I want you to wear them.”

“You do, do you?” Mickey's face suddenly turns into a smile, his stomach twisting like normal.

“Damn straight.” Ian nods, unclasping the cuffs on both sides and pulling them up against Mickey's body, he taps on Mickey's arms. His eyes grow wide, puppy-dog style, pouting his bottom lip as he asked, “You up for it?”

Mickey compensates the idea for a while, looking from each of Ian's pleading but persuading eyes. The redhead wiggles his brows, causing Mickey's stomach to yearn, his dick twitching against Ian's stomach. He rolls his eyes, smacking his hands against the sheets. “You gonna get on me anytime soon?”

“God, so thirsty.” Ian chuckles, smiling smug. “Hands up.”

Reluctantly, Mickey raises both of his hands, sighing as Ian laughed in victory. “For fucks sakes.” He mutters under his breath, watching idly as Ian clasped the two cuffs against his wrists, successfully tying him against the headboard. Ian rubs at his wrists tenderly, as Mickey rattled the metal against the wooden headboard.

Ian stills his hands, “This is not going to go any faster with your bitching, you know.” His hand trails down Mickey's chest, causing him to arch his back and rattle his wrists against the cuffs. God, Ian knew those things were a good idea – now, Mickey would be begging even more.

“You feel okay?” Ian asks, eyeing him as Mickey huffed aggressively.

“Oh you know,” Mickey waves his limp hand, chest shaking a little under Ian's smooth, and soft touch that felt like feathers. “Just a casual Friday night with these things on.”

Ian's hand moves further down now, face turning dark with lust. “Good.”

Mickey gasps as his cock grows fully hard, Ian takes it in his hand, slowly stroking it. He watches Mickey tentatively, spitting against his hand before replacing it back against Mickey's dick, hand gliding easily over the shaft, a minimal friction. Mickey bites down on his lip, heated breath against Ian's head, eyes closing as he drawn out his out desperate breath.

Ian hums, looking up through his lashes at the squirming mess that was Mickey. “That good, Mick?” He asks, laugh bubbling in his throat, squeezing at Mickey's cock so that it slid through his fingers.

“Yeah, it's fucking-” Mickey pulls out another breath, groaning to the side. “It's good, really fucking good, actually.”

It's going great. Really fucking great. Ian could hear the plead in Mickey's voice, and like always Mickey was coming close to the edge, but Ian, of course, was not going to let that happen just yet. He works Mickey's cock, one slow stroke a a time, he squeezes at the base before he replaces his hand with the slick, smooth feel of his lips, running along the slit teasingly. Mickey's hips twist from side to side, shuddering under the cold wetness of Ian's mouth, pushing his feet up against the bed to rectify some more of Ian's mouth.

Ian pushes his hips onto the bed, before pulling off his lips, running his tongue along the lean vein on the underside of Mickey's cock. Mickey squirms, whimpering loudly, hands rattling against the cuffs tying him up. “Ian, get a fucking move on. I'm fucking – shit – you're killing me here, man.”

In victory, Ian slides himself up Mickey's body, hand still moving. He rubs his nose up against his abs, kissing a path up to his nipples. Ian leans in, sucking down on his left, running his tongue around the rim as his hand slowly, rubbed against his cock. Mickey curses out loud, hands pulling against his restraints as Ian bit against the pink, perked up nipple. He cries out, hissing through his teeth in a pathetic plead.

When Mickey's hips shutter, jerking a little, Ian stills his hand and waits, grinning against Mickey's skin. He rests his head against his chest, humming against the sounds of Mickey trying to pull free, crying out to be touched and to chase up his climax.

Mickey shudders impressively, “Fucking hell, Ian, what the fuck – what are you doing?” He rocks his hips upwards, trying to move up in Ian's palm, but nothing comes off it and he allows him to grow impassively, more frustrated.

“Sh,” Ian places his freehand against Mickey's lips, placing a kiss against the blushing pair. “Just wait.” He teases, winking as he presses yet another kiss against Mickey's whimpering lips.

Ian ghosts his lips over Mickey, brushing them together slightly, making Mickey moan out in instant pleasure, but a yearning beg that Ian would never get over hearing. Ian runs his thumb over the head of Mickey's cock, exploring the smooth, round curve of it before toying with the leaking slit. Mickey throws his head back, biting at the skin of his uplifted arm, headboard slightly rattling. He tries to chase Ian's lips, and Ian lets him. Their mouths meet, messily, and they both groan at the touch.

Once Ian's sure that Mickey's backed down from the edge, he begins to squeeze at the base of his cock, sliding his hand along the length effortlessly, kissing at Mickey's heaving chest as he let out the most delicate moans. Mickey whines, wincing at the satisfaction, clenching his eyes shut as Ian bites down at his bottom lip.

Ian loved seeing Mickey like this; completely lost in pleasure, begging for his touch, rattling his hands against the headboard, the sharpness faded from his cranky attitude. It was more than loveable, it was beautiful, it was a hell of a sight and Ian was insistent never to forget it.

He kisses as Mickey's chin, running his teeth along the bone, before licking away the sweat pooled at the hollow of his throat, rubbing his lips along the pressed out bone of Mickey's collar. The brunette lets out sharp moans, echoing through the room, hips rutting against Ian's palm, with the same slow, careful rhythm.

Ian pushes himself up with his arm, watching. Mickey's eyes are closed, fluttering at each stroke, face screwed up with desperation as his fingers turn white against their clutched position on the headboard – and guiltily, Ian could see the red marks forming around his wrists. Mickey didn't seem to notice, not yet, his muscles bunched, all tense and ready to release, his skin sheered with sweat. Ian could look at him all day; it was mesmerizing to watch the slow move of his hips, the way his whole body trembled under the small touch of his hand against his cock.

He can't help himself, it was so hot. So fucking hot. Ian presses his body against Mickey's, running his lips against his skin as his dick rubbed, wetly, against Mickey's hip. Ian could feel Mickey gasping sharply, his hips moving more erratically, and he knew what that meant.

He pulls his hand away.

Mickey's eyes shoot open, “What the fuck?”

“I said to wait.” Ian teases, leaning over to the table at the beside and grabbing the lube.

The older man grunts, rolling his hips into the air. “Fuck you!” He yells, breathless. “You're such a dick, I hate you. I hate you so much.” When Ian scoffs, Mickey kicks his legs out, pulling Ian back against him, gritting his teeth. “Come here, come on. Just – fucking – _oh my god.”_

Ian can't help but laugh at Mickey's pure desperation, and he acts on it. “What do you want, Mickey?” He rubs the lube into his hand, slicking up his fingers. Ian slides himself back between Mickey's legs, chest to chest, nose to nose, hand slipping back down towards his dick. His hand moves easily against it, causing Mickey to whimper out, hands bracing themselves against the cuffs digging into his skin.

“I fucking _hate_ you.” Mickey says softly, not meaning any word of it, shaking his head. Ian raises his brow, hand going slower, Mickey throws his head back. “You. I fucking want you.”

“Oh, you will.” Ian plays, skimming his hand past Mickey's leaking cock and balls, down towards his puckered wet hole, pressing his finger into the ring of muscle. Mickey shudders, trying to catch his breath, whole back arching against the sheets.

Mickey bites his lip, drawing a little blood, as he sharply snarls, “When? Tomorrow? Next fucking week? I'm going grey here, Gallagher, just get the fuck on me and stop pissing about.” Ian tilts his head, humming a little, before pushing his whole finger into Mickey, causing the man to cut off his rant and muffle his cries into the skin of his arm.

“No.” Ian pulls Mickey's head to the side. “I want to hear you.”

A long, slow pull on Mickey's cock and the brunette shudders, body beginning to shake as Ian's palms rubs over the head of his dick. When Ian pauses, Mickey freezes, hissing through his breath. “ _Please._ Just fucking – _Ian,_ please for fucks sakes.”

And that's all Ian wanted to hear.

Mickey, however, can't handle it anymore, his chest is moving up and down rapidly, he feels numb from all the tension building in his body, and by the smirk resting on Ian's lips he knows the other man was going to cut off his climax once more. “Fuck it. Turn over.” He commands, kicking Ian off of him and with a swift heel of his foot he manages to flip him over.

“What-” Ian stutters, eyes wide.

“Sit up against the headboard.” Mickey orders, somehow twisting his hands with the handcuffs, effectively turning his position from laying down to straddling Ian's hips. To be honest, the cuffs against his wrists were fucking awful, it hurt like a bitch and now the position was even worse, but instead he just thinks about Ian all shocked, and passive beneath him.

In shock, Ian leans himself up against the headboard, back cold against the wood. Mickey straddles his hips, shifting higher given his hands still clasped to the metal barriers. His arms loop around Ian's shoulders as the redhead ducks his head between each cuff, his hands resting at Mickey's hips. The brunette winces at the slow movement of Ian's fingers, and pushing himself back against it.

“Get _in_ me, Gallagher.” He whispers, breath hot against Ian's face. Ian nods, smirking, but lines himself up with Mickey's hole. “You don't want me to prep-” Ian starts, but Mickey finishes.

“I can deal.”

Biting his lip, Ian rests his hand against Mickey's hip, the other on his dick, and bare he pushes the tip of his dick into Mickey's puckered hole, throwing his head back against the headboard at the familiar, and pleasurable sensation. Mickey's head lolls forward, mouth going slack, he pushes back against Ian's dick and allows it to go half-way.

Freely, he begins to move a little, the burning sensation of Ian's bare dick fading, leaning into capture Ian's lips with him. He grips tightly against the headboard, the metal of the cuffs cutting into his skin a little. Ian grips to his hips, fingers forming bruises as Mickey began to bounce against his dick. He moves his hands with Mickey's movements, hand slipping lower down to curve over the cushion of his needy ass. He bites through his teeth, his own chest rising and falling through the contact. That's when he feels it. The upcoming release that always came when Mickey was riding him like this.

Mickey felt it too, finally, his gasps growing quickly each time he slipped back down Ian's cock with a wince. “You. Fucking. Idiot.” He mutters out each word between each breath, shaking his head when he hears Ian laugh breathlessly. He groans out, the slap of skin echoing through the room.

“You. Fucking. Love. it.” Ian grits out, fingers clawing into Mickey's skin.

They were so close, and Mickey removes the gap as he latches their lips together once more.

Then finally, he feels it. "Holy fucking shit, _Ian."_  The over-powering, glory of his orgasm, it flooded through his body, ass and legs tensing around Ian as he let out the worlds loudest moan – that he had never heard himself create before – his fingers grip tightly to the wood of the headboard, cuffs bashing against their locks as he shuddered around Ian, liquid spilling over both of their chests.

Ian releases next, filling Mickey up with a satisfied groan that caused him to knock his head back against the wood, fingers scratching against Mickey's pale skin desperately. "Shit, Mick, so Good. so fucking good." He laughs a little in the after glow, keeping Mickey grounded against his cock as they both tried to re-control their breathing. He leans forward and rests his head against Mickey's chest. Mickey dips a little, kissing into Ian's hair before he mutters, “Still fucking trapped her, man.”

“Sorry.” Ian huffs, tiredly, reaching to the side to grab the key. He shifts a little, still not pulling out, as he turns his head to unlock the cuffs from around Mickey's wrists. In a struggle, he unclasps them, the metal falling from each of Mickey's hands.

The brunette pulls them back, flicking them around to crack them a little. Ian watches Mickey, before grabbing his wrists and pulling them to his lips. He kisses at the red marks, rubbing his fingers around the cuts that were a little on show. “Shit, I didn't mea-”

“That was fucking hot.” Mickey confessed, allowing Ian to pepper him in kisses. He finally leans forward and wraps his arms around Ian's waist, resting his head against his chest. Ian stills, before he hums a little, looping his own arms around Mickey and kissing at his head.

In a scoff, he replies, “I knew I could get you begging.”

“I didn't fucking beg.” Mickey mumbles against his skin, a little worn out.

“Yes you did.”

“Did not.”

Ian chuckles, “Lets face it, you _need_ me.”

Mickey pauses, lifting his head up slightly. “Of course I do.”


End file.
